A Physician's Story [pp. 544-547]

A Ph/ysician's Story.
"He would wander for days in the
woods and among the hills, studying
plants and animals. Animals especially,
and among these birds, interested him,
and he became thoroughly familiar with
their life histories. His library abounded
in books on the various branches of
zoology and botany, and at an early age
he wrote articles on the habits of animals that were gladly received by prominent journals.
"When only twenty-five years of age
he was sent on a government expedition
to the northern prairies, and the following year on an expedition to California.
On this latter trip I accompanied him,
and it was here in California that a
further strange phase of this strange
case developed itself.
"In the course of our travels we came
to the Mojave district You know what
that is,- a desert region producing
nothing but lizards, cacti, and Spanish
bayonets (or yucca, a magnificent plant
in bloom). It is about as dismal a country as we would care to see in September, the time when we reached it.
"Here we were to stop for a time,
and we were all glad to go into camp.
As we approached our temporary destination, I noticed Clary passing his
hand over his eyes several times in a
confused sort of a way, as if he were
trying to remember something.
"Presently he turned to me.' Doctor,' he said,'if I did not know that I
never have been here, I should swear
that I had been. Everything looks
strangely old and familiar. I know
without looking at them the lizards and
rabbits of this region. It seems to me
that I can remember having seen this
plain, or one strangely like it, all ablaze
with flowers. Yonder mountain tops
are covered with snow at times, and
this heat is pleasant after the cold
winds of the winter. I don't understand
my sensations.'
"'Do you remember any details,' I
asked him.
"'No,' he-said,'none at all. I suppose I must have read aboit, or perhaps
dreamed of, some such place. Certainly
my memories are uncertain enough to
be but the vague recollections of an old
dream.'
"In the evening we camped about a
mile from an Indian village, and after
supper Clary and I sauntered out to see
the natives, several of whom had already
honored our camp with their presence,
though my friend had seen little or nothing of them, being busy about some of
his arrangements. After supper, however, we started off for the Indian village. The Indlans, — men, women, and
children,- swarmed about us. In their
broken English they spoke to us, and
offered all sorts of articles of their manufacture for sale. Of course they also
made a great many remarks in their own
tongue, which were not intended for our
comprehension.
"At first my attention was held by
the clamoring crowd about us, but turning presently to make a remark to my
companion I noticed the same confused
air that he had worn earlier in the day,
and he urged our return to camp very
soon, pleading as an excuse unfinished
work.
"When we kvere alone he was silent
and preoccupied. I felt concerned, and
made some remark about his health.
"'0, I am all right,' he said;' but I am
at a loss to explain my peculiar experiences. My impression that I have been
familiar with all these scenes in the past
grows stronger and stronger. It seems,
somehow, to associate itself with he
vague memories of my life before that
attack of typhoid fever. You are sure,
are you not, that my parents had never
taken me through this couutry during
my boyhood?'
"I could only say that his mother had
told me that he had never been more
than one hundred miles from Philadelphia before he went to the war.
"' Well,' he said,' do you know that to
546
[Nov.